


Fuckin' Diabolical

by empounce



Category: The Boys (TV 2019) RPF
Genre: Adult Situations, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Corruption, Dark, Eventual Romance, F/M, Female Reader, Graphic Language, Graphic Violence, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Supe Reader, Super Reader, Superpowers, The Boys au, The Seven, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2020-12-17 01:53:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21046358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empounce/pseuds/empounce
Summary: You're a supe, but you've stayed to yourself your whole life. However, on vacation you end up having to reveal yourself to save those around you, gaining the unwanted attention of Vought, who pursues your employment vigorously. After weeks of negotiations, you find yourself to be the newest member of The Seven, and soon after, the new Vought golden-child, much to the dismay of your new partner face of the company, The Homelander.  --AU, mostly based on the TV show, but will differ in a lot of ways too since it's reader-insert.--





	1. A Series of Unfortunate Events

You grew up with a caring family.

Your parents supported you; they loved you; they understood you.

You moved around a lot as a child, not quite grasping why until you got older, and started noticing how different you really were.

Everyone’s parents tell them they’re special, but you really were. Not just to them, but to everyone, and they knew you weren’t ready for that kind of blind adoration. They were good people, and great parents. Never did they complain or blame you when you accidentally showed your powers, leading to yet another long-distance move. Instead, they praised you for being so special, and helped you to learn self-control, until you were old enough to consciously choose whether to show your abilities or not. There was still the occasional move, between school bullies and sometimes even neighborhood violence, but they almost made a game of it; seeing the world together as a family.

You miss them deeply.

Especially on days like today.

You wish you could hear their voices, ask their advice. Part of you wants their input, but knows, no matter how you weigh the options, this is the right thing to do, even with the consequences being so great.

The plane shakes violently again as the engine shudders, this time followed by a large explosion, taking half of the left wing with it and sending the aircraft spiraling downward. There’s no more time, the Captain clearly won’t be able to save the situation, and no help will ever be able to get here fast enough.

With a slow, deliberate breath in, and then a deep exhale, you stand and move toward one of the emergency doors, taking a firm grip on the handle.

A stewardess rushes to block you, “Miss, you can’t go out there!”

“Trust me.” You lock eyes, trying to communicate without outright saying what needed to be done.

She seems to understand, moving out of the way and quickly ushering everyone to buckle themselves in. With another glance to you, she takes her own seat, quickly strapping in, and gives a curt nod.

Another breath, your mothers voice in your head telling you that you can do this, and the image of your father’s small but encouraging smile. In one smooth motion you yank the handle to the side, fling the door open, fly outside, and slam the door shut behind you. It’s difficult to hold on, the plan is spinning too fast, but there’s nothing to use as leverage.

The tail of the plane catches you eye. Even though you have no idea whether it’ll work or not, you quickly fly up to grip it as best you can, bending some of the metal in your hands as you use every ounce of flight strength you have to pull out of the spin.

It seems to be working!

As the spinning slows, you dart underneath the broken and battered remains of the left wing, spreading your arms along it as you attempt to shoulder as much of the weight as possible. Luckily, the flight crew apparently notices your efforts, and regains some control of the aircraft while you try your best to act as the other engine. It’s not graceful, and you have no idea what you’re doing, but even with fear coursing through your veins, you somehow manage to guide everyone to an empty field.

Just before the landing, you fly back to the tail, pulling in the opposite direction as hard as you can to slow down the descent. It’s rough, leaving scorched ruts and ripping off the remaining wing in the process. Dirt and the single tree that dared to get in the way strewn about the chaotic field that had once looked so serene.

But there’s no time.

Hands shaking, you hesitate, if only for a second, before ripping the door off the side of the plane, not bothering to unlock it properly.

Tears trail along the brim of your eyes as you finally exhale, the smiling faces of everyone inside warming your chest. Everyone survived.

\----

You stay long enough to make sure everyone is tended to, but once you notice the news vans arriving, you make a quick exit. Flying to a nearby town for a night in a hotel before going to the airport in the morning. After a stunt like that, you didn’t much feel like going on vacation anymore, you just wanted to go home to your dog and enjoy your boring house.

\----

Fortunately, you’re able to catch a flight immediately, and make it home the next evening. Tired and sore from the whole ordeal, you still find yourself perking up as you get closer to your friend’s house. They had agreed to care for you beloved Doberman, Gaius, while you were on vacation. Even though it had only been a day, with the incident cutting the whole trip short, you missed your furbaby more than anything.

Before you can even knock on the door, Angela rushes out and tackles you in a suffocating embrace. “I was so worried about you! Your plane was all over the news! What happened?!”

“Oh.” Slowly prying yourself out of her death grip, you plaster your best reassuring smile across your face. “I got lucky I guess, decided last minute not to go and ended up just staying at a nice spa for a night. How crazy is that?”

Her expression goes blank, her eyes slightly narrowing as she crosses her arms. “I’m not an idiot.”

“I don’t- “

“I know it was you.” The statement hits like a brick wall, her eyebrow quirked as she awaits a response, but you can’t seem to form any words, the edge of your lip twitching slightly and your heart racing. With a sigh, she moves aside, motioning into the house. “Let’s sit down, yeah?”

As soon as the door closes, you flip the lock, earning another questioning glance from Angela, but she doesn’t say anything as both of you take a seat on opposite couches. Gaius happily climbs into your lap, seeming to sense the serious tone of the room as he simply lays across your legs quietly.

“Angela, I really don’t- “

She holds a hand up, interrupting you as she reaches for the tv remote. “Let me just stop you there.” Switching on the tv, she presses play on the previously still news program and images of the plane crash fill the screen, various survivors being interviewed in the background by different news teams. “I think you need to just tell me what’s going on.”

Shaking your head, you look her in the eyes. “I told you, I got lucky, I- “

“No.” She stops you again, pointing to the tv as she fast forwards to a specific part of the news segment, apparently having watched it over several times as she knows exactly which point to stop and hit play. “This.” She points to a clip someone had taken on their cellphone after the crash, “I know this is you. So don’t play games with me.” There’s a blurry image of a figure flying away from the crash as the people around cheer.

“How does that look anything like me? It’s barely recognizable as a person, Ange, that’s just a blurry figure.” You can tell she isn’t buying it though.

Sighing, she rubs her temples in frustration. “They all clearly describe a young woman, with very distinct traits. Short purple hair, buzzed on the side, tall, and several mentioned seeing some tattoos, specifically moon tattoos on her arm. You’re not seriously trying to tell me that some superhero matching your EXACT description, on the flight you were supposed to be on, just isn’t you? Because you happened to not be on the flight?”

The room goes quiet, your lips pursed as your heart beats violently against your chest, threatening to burst at any moment.

When she finally speaks it almost makes you jump, “You can stay here if you need to lay low. They’re bound to look at the flight manifest and figure out who you are.”

With a small smile, you remember why she’s such a great friend. “Thanks Ange…”

Getting up, she moves to grab Gaius’ bag for you, calling over her shoulder as she leaves the room. “I gotta say though,” and then continues her sentence as she reenters, “I’m pretty upset my best friend didn’t tell me she was a supe.”

Standing to grab the bag from her, Gaius trailing close behind, you make your way to the door. “It’s not as great as you’d think… Not when you just wanna be normal…”

“Well,” She pats Gaius on the head in goodbye, and wraps her arms around you in another vice-like hug, “Your secret’s safe with me. For as long as it stays a secret anyway.”

“Yeah.” You nod, once again prying yourself out of her firm grip. “I’ll call you when I make it home ok?”

She smiles and waves goodbye from her doorstep as you and Gaius climb into your car. “Try not to get in any trouble on the way!”

Laughing, you wave in response before starting down the road. It’s not a long drive home, but it seems to take forever. Dread weighing in your stomach as you realize Angela was right, there’s no way you can stay hidden now, they’ll easily be able to find you from the flight records. Everyone would know, and there was no telling how much time you have left before your entire life would inevitably get turned upside down.

But… it was worth it. In the end, you had weighed the decision, and knew that saving all those people was the right one. Even if it meant you were outted in the process.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t even notice the strange car in front of your house until Gaius starts growling. It’s a long driveway, lined with trees, with no other house for a while, so it wasn’t likely they were here by accident. That’s when you notice the emblem on the side, and your heart sinks…

Vought is sitting in your driveway.

Letting Gaius out first, you quickly grab your bags and make your way to the door, ignoring the car entirely, and brushing right past the man who attempts to gain your attention. ‘Miss. Miss? Miss!”

You slam the door in his face, leaving him standing on your porch, clearly confused. Several minutes go by as he awkwardly continues to stand, unsure of what to do before making a phone call. The other line clearly not happy with the news, apparently having expected you to come happily with Vought as many young supes usually fight for the chance to even be interviewed, much less sought out by them.

This goes on for weeks, every day some new Vought car being parked at your house. Gifts left on your porch, letters, phone calls, and then one day, you think they’ve finally left you alone. For a whole 24 hours, there’s no one at your house. You may have actually been stubborn enough to lose their attention.

But… as fate would have it, things weren’t going to go away that easily.

When the doorbell rings, you scan to see a new, unmarked vehicle, though clearly much nicer than the rest had been. An older woman standing at your door, alone, a smile on her face as she admires the surrounding land. With a sigh, you decide to at least hear them out, and maybe officially tell them you’re not interested since they haven’t taken your silence as a clear message.

As soon as you open the door, her smile broadens. “Ah, so you DO want to talk.”

“Not really.” You answer flatly.

“Ah…” Her smile doesn’t falter as she glances down at the baskets still sitting on your porch. “I see you’ve been getting our gifts…”

“I don’t want whatever you’re offering, I- “

“But you haven’t even heard what we have to say.” With an outstretched hand, she continues, “My name is Madelyn Stillwell.”

Reluctantly, you take her hand, introducing yourself as well. “But like I said, I’m not interested in anything Vought has to offer.”

She nods and takes a breath, her smile actually seeming a little genuine for a moment as though she preferred the challenge of negotiation rather than the constant barrage of supes begging to be accepted to her company. “I’m sure you don’t know me, but I NEVER come to personally invite ANYONE, and- “

“You’re right.” You interrupt somewhat impatiently. “I don’t know you, and I would appreciate if you and your people could leave me alone.” You move to close the door, but a thud of something landing on your porch startles you into keeping it open.

Madelyn smiles as you step outside, turning to face the culprit of the noise. The infamous Homelander, had just flown onto your porch, and was standing with a single hand outstretched, smiling just as broad as Madelyn.

It sickened you, how obviously fake the two of them were being, how ridiculous he looked trying to play Mr. Perfect when he clearly followed every little whim of his boss, who you had to assume was Madelyn by the way she beamed with pride at his appearance. Presumably just on cue.

Instead of taking his hand, you face Madelyn again. “What will it take for you to leave me alone?”

Homelander takes it a bit personally, flinching slightly as his smile falters, the edge of his lip twitching. He retracts his hand, holding them both behind his back as he clears his throat to gain your attention. “We’re offering you a spot in The Seven.”

“Like I’ve said several times.” You keep your eyes locked with Madelyn, having a strange sort of staring contest, “I’m not interested.”

She finally looks away, smiling to Homelander softly. “Maybe you could just come with us, see what it’s like, learn a few things from Homelander here. He’s very excited to work with you.”

Without even having to look, you feel him stiffen, but through a forced smile, he seems to agree, “Y-yes. I’ve seen the clips and we just knew you’d be a great fit for the team.”

“A new partner even.” Madelyn interjects, stopping Homelander before he can ramble on, but seeming to catch him by surprise based on his expression (See GIF at beginning of chapter), “I’m willing to bet you have a lot more to offer than what we saw in the clips, and we liked what we saw. Didn’t we?”

Clearing his throat and regaining his composure. “Yes. You seem to have great potential.”

“I’m still not- “

“Give it a week.” Madelyn interrupts. “Come stay at the facility for a week, work with Homelander, work with the team, give us a fair shot. If after that you still don’t want anything to do with us, we’ll wipe the slate clean and let you live your life without us or the media bothering you.”

Homelander shifts ever so slightly, obviously uncomfortable, which brings a strange bit of pleasure. There’s something about him that you just don’t like, and it’s clear that having to be around you for a week would be immensely annoying for him. Afterall, you could deal with a week. You chew at your lip, glancing between the two of them, and then back to the house.

Holding a hand out to Madelyn, she excitedly moves to take it, but you retract slightly at the last second, “ONE week, and I bring my dog.”

Without hesitation, she grasps your hand in both of hers. “Deal.”


	2. Kind of a Creep

Though you were tempted to fly to HQ, you honestly didn’t trust Stillwell with your precious Gaius, and you definitely didn’t want to spend ‘quality time’ with Homelander. Stillwell wasn’t thrilled that you were currently driving behind them in your own vehicle, but Homelander didn’t seem too upset about flying home alone; if anything, you swear he almost smirked as he ascended beyond the clouds.

Unfortunately, as part of the deal, your identity was now public, and you were to be officially announced as the newest member of The Seven tomorrow night. Knowing it’s only for one week helps to put your mind at ease somewhat, but as you pull up to HQ you can’t help but to be taken aback.

“Fuck…” you mutter under your breath.

Gaius stirs in the passenger seat, a low growl of uncertainty sounding deep within his chest at the crowd of press held back only by a gate and a few armed security guards. Yes, _knowing_ it’s only for a week is one thing, but _surviving_ that week may turn out to be a different story entirely.

As you’re ushered through the gate and into a concealed parking garage before finally being able to exit your vehicle in the privacy of HQ grounds, you can’t imagine why anyone would actually seek out a life like this. Stillwell rounds the corner, her smile nearly too large for her face, stretching further than you would’ve thought humanly possible, and reminding you that this is the exact person who thrives on this sort of mayhem.

“This is amazing.” She boasts almost breathlessly. “We haven’t even revealed you yet and they’re already chomping at the bit to even get a glance at you. This is so much better than we ever could’ve expected!”

She waits excitedly for a response, but her smile fades into a furrowed brow of confusion as you curtly remove the bags from your car. “Can you show me where to put all this stuff?”

“Wh….. But…. Aren’t you excited?” She attempts to smile again, perhaps hoping it will encourage one of your own.

It doesn’t.

“Look lady.” You put a hand up to silence her before she has a chance to interrupt. “I don’t care about your bullshit politics or however you wanna run your bullshit company, ok? I’m here for one week, to be your show-pony for ONE WEEK, then I’m outta dodge as quick as possible. That was the deal, and I’ll stick to it, but don’t expect me to be excited about it behind closed doors. K?”

Turning to let Gaius out of the car, you shuffle past one of the security men who had driven Stillwell and move toward the elevator. Seeming to understand the situation more clearly, Stillwell follows, the click of her heels along the concrete the only thing breaking the silence as a slight scowl tugs at the corner of her lips. She clearly wasn’t used to being spoken to so brashly, nor so candid. The thought that you may have gotten under her skin allows a smirk to briefly twitch up the edge of your mouth before the doors open to a new floor.

Admittedly, the building is absolutely beautiful, but the classic styled paintings of each team member lining the hallway… are a bit much.

Gaius pads alongside you, staying close by as always, bringing both of you a glimmer of comfort as Stillwell silently shows you to your door. “If you need anything there’s staff on call 24 hours. We have a fitting scheduled for you at 5, someone will be by to escort you.” And with that, she turns and bounces off as though her anger added a certain pep to the curls of her hair.

Before you can even fully open the door, you hear the heavy footsteps of someone else coming to stand behind you.

The Deep flashes a bright smile, thrusting a hand forward to introduce himself.

“No.” You interrupt.

He freezes, mouth slightly agape, hand still extended as he blinks slowly. “Uh… I’m- “

“Nope.” You turn and continue into your room, shutting the door in his face before he has the chance to enter behind you.

“What the fuck just happened?” You hear him mutter under his breath before watching his shadow disappear from the other side of the door.

\--------

The room you’re assigned is more like an apartment, with a full living area and kitchen in addition to a massive bedroom and spa-like bathroom. This week may not be as miserable as you thought.

5 o’clock arrives entirely too soon for your liking.

A knock comes at your door, which you answer without hesitation under the assumption that your escort had arrived to show you to the fitting appointment.

Homelander smiles that plastic, snarky grin, and you immediately shut the door once moor.

Another knock.

With a sigh, you reopen the door. “Yes?”

“You have a fitting, I thought Stillwell would have told you?” He feigns politeness, which honestly irks you more than if he would just return your cold demeaner in full.

You open the door wider before stepping out, signaling Gaius to come along as you venture out into the hallway.

“Do you always have to bring him?” He asks incredulously.

Rather than acknowledge him with any kind of response, you choose to accompany him in silence.

“Many would have fought to even get a chance at where you are.” He speaks slow, calm, and deliberate, but you can sense a certain malice behind it where his teeth ache from clenching his jaw in self-control to choose his words so carefully. “Yet you drag your feet every step of the way and show no interest whatsoever.”

He stops in the hallway, facing you and clearly awaiting some response before continuing to your appointment.

With a roll of your eyes and a long sigh, you indulge his prying remarks. “Listen, I agreed to do this for a week, and I’ll put on a good show to the public eye. BUT, no one said anything about actually having to like any of you plastic puppets or having to play nice behind closed doors. So, excuse me if I don’t feel like pretending to enjoy something that I’ve been trying to avoid my entire fucking life. K?”

Clearly taken aback, he stands like a statue, his hands behind his back and eyes glued to yours. The small twitch of a smirk threatens to tug at the corner of his mouth, but he clears his throat and continues on down the hall.

You waste no time in reaching for the door when you arrive, all too ready to depart from your current company, but a hand quickly shoots out to hold the door shut. Before you can move, Homelander places his other hand on the wall, boxing you in as he presses closer. Though you stand your ground defiantly, you find yourself extremely uncomfortable.

“Hm.” He presses his lips together in thought, studying your eyes with his face mere inches from yours. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?”

“And you’re kind of a creep, aren’t you?”

A real smirk curls along his lips, the first one you’ve seen actually reach his eyes. “I’ll collect you when you’re done, we have training to do.”


	3. Chapter 3

The meeting drags on, the crew having designed what they call an ‘outfit’ for you, but what you call a spandex bikini…

“That’s not happening.” You repeat, shaking your head.

“But,” The redhead, anxious woman named Ashley steps in, her entire demeanor screaming insecurity, “It would really speak to the young male audiences and give women something to model after. That’s what we’re going for with this new look.”

You roll your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose. “That’s the problem, we don’t need a sex doll out there for little girls and boys to be looking at, we need a superhero. If you wanna sex it up then make it skintight, but don’t have me walking around nearly naked like some corner street bimbo.”

No one had noticed Stillwell enter the room until she speaks up. “Give her some tight pants and one of those corset things that leave a little open,” She motions vaguely to her chest, “around this area, just give some minor cleavage and call it a day.”

One of the design men open their mouth to speak, but she gives her off-kilter smile and slowly blinks in their direction. They all get up to leave, and she comes to sit on the couch opposite you as the two of you are alone.

“Is that a good compromise for you? Or are you gonna make this week more difficult than it needs to be.” She smiles again, though it doesn’t meet her eyes.

“That’s good enough for the short time I’ll have to prance around in it.”

“Good.” She nods, crossing her legs and resting her hands together at her knees. “I assume Homelander told you that he wants to run through some training this afternoon?”

“Yup.” You nod, glancing down to pick at one of the strings hanging off your shorts, not remotely interested in anything this puppeteer has to say.

She gives a short laugh, clearly having expected more of a response. “Well? Aren’t you excited about what you could learn? He’s our most valuable asset, the most powerful of The Seven! Isn’t that something to look forward to?”

Shaking your head, you purse your lips. “Nope, feeling a lot of things but don’t think excited is one of them.”

Sighing, she corrects the smile on her face again and stands, fixing her blazer before moving toward the door. “Well maybe you’ll learn a thing or two anyway.”

She almost jerks the door open, showing her agitation for a split second before she leaves.

Only a few seconds later, Homelander himself opens the door and steps inside, waiting in vain for you to acknowledge him before he finally gives up and comes to stand beside you. “Good meeting?”

“If by good,” You roll you eyes and stretch before meeting his gaze, “You mean having some virgin dudes tell you that you need to ‘sex it up’ with the style, then yeah it was fan-fucking-tastic.”

A genuine laugh briefly parts his lips, “That bad, huh?”

You nod and stand, motioning to one of the sketches they had left on the table. “Why do they want me to walk around looking half naked when you get to be covered from head to foot?”

He quirks a brow, taking the drawing in his hand to study it briefly before raking his eyes over you, a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips before meeting your eyes. “Would you rather me be naked with you?”

You imitate a brief gag, covering your mouth slightly. “Sorry, thought I was gonna throw up for a second there. Don’t take it personally, it’s not you, it’s me. I’m just really working on myself right now, ya know, doing me, figuring things out. You’ve gotta be able to go do your thing too, I can’t be the one holding you back.”

Another genuine laugh sounds from him, more of a chuckle this time as the corners of his eyes crease in a smile. He drops the drawing and moves his cape out of the way, motioning for you walk past and move toward the door. “Well, let’s go get this training over with, shall we? I’m curious to see what all the fuss is about.”

“Whatever you say dude,” You shrug, brushing past him and opening the door to step out into the hall, waiting for Gaius to follow and Homelander to shut the door so you can follow him to wherever this is taking place, “Just let me know if you need a break.”

He gives a short laugh, almost a scoff. “I’m sure I’ll be fine; I’ve never had someone even keep up during training so don’t try too hard. I’d hate to see you get burnt out before you even get started.”

“Aw,” You give a fake pout, “Does poor Mr. Homelander not have anyone to play with.”

“Well, that depends.” He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, his gate faltering ever so slightly. “Are you offer to play with me?”

You chuckle and direct your attention back down the hall, curious how large this place actually is or how you could possibly go through training together without destroying whatever room you would be in. “Well, I’ll give you points for entertainment value, but you’re still pretty fucking weird.”

He stops and opens a large door, using his eye as a scan to unlock it before pressing the thick metal to reveal a large sparring area. “I haven’t even gotten to show you my fun side yet.”

The entire room is apparently made with reinforced steel, though… lasers are still not recommended, it supposedly holds up quit well to the regular supe throwing another supe around. Admittedly, you were starting to feel a little excited at the prospect of punching the infamous Homelander in his smug little face.

He shuts the door, locking it behind you, unfortunately for Gaius’ safety he had been left outside under the supervision of one of the employees who had happened to walk by. Homelander grabs a bag from one of the benches and tosses it at you before motioning to one of the doors at the closest corner.

“Might wanna change, wouldn’t wanna rip or burn those clothes off, would we?” He winks before moving further into the facility to wait.

With another annoyed roll of your eyes, you begin to contemplate the implications of excessive eye rolls. Does it strain your eyes at all? Maybe that’s Homelander’s real power: annoying people into blindness. You chuckle to yourself, quickly changing into what essentially is a sports bra and some spandex type leggings. Though you honestly aren’t sure how this is an improvement, you gotta admit, you can’t rip them no matter how hard you tug at the fabric.

When you walk out, you find him standing at the center, his flare of the dramatic apparent as he moves his cape to fully face you, a sly grin pulling at the corners of his lips as he takes in your outfit. “Fits you perfect!”

“Yeah, it’s just wonderful.” You sigh, glancing around again. “So, what exactly are we doing here?”

“Well,” He rubs his hands together, “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll fight, and I’ll push you, find your limits and what not, see what all you can do, maybe get a little more out of you than you knew you were capable of.” He shrugs, but one of his brows quirks slightly as his eyes trail along you before darting back up to meet your gaze, as if snapping himself out of his inner thoughts.

“Whenever I’m ready?” You ask.

He grins and nods, opening his mouth to speak, but your fist connects with his jaw before he has the time to form any words.

He stumbles back, holding his jaw with one hand slightly as he chuckles. “Oh, wow I actually felt that.” Chuckling again, he straightens himself to find that you were no longer standing before him. “I knew you’d be a feisty one!”


	4. Chapter 4

Homelander spins slowly, scanning the area for any sign of where you went, an amused smirk broadening across his face. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

You lower yourself directly behind him, silently touching your feet to the floor before placing one hand firmly at his back to shove him forward.

He stumbles slightly, spinning quicker this time, whipping his head around to look for you as you once again disappear.

“You didn’t watch the footage at all, did you?” You cross your arms and grin as he looks up, finally seeing where you float near the ceiling.

“So,” He readjusts his collar before slowly rising, his cape somehow billowing even with the lack of wind anywhere inside the room – funny how that always happens. “You can fly?”

“You’d know that if you watched the clips.” A short yawn parts your lips casually, your hand moving up to cover your mouth as that familiar irritated twitch flutters across his features.

“Am I boring you?” His body tenses slightly, giving away his intentions and allowing you to easily dart out of the way as he rushes forward.

Stopping just above the floor, he turns to look up again, the fake public poster-child grin quickly fading into an annoyed, jaw clenching expression.

Shrugging, you lower yourself to the ground again, stopping a few feet away from him. “Just figured you’d be a little faster I guess.”

“Hmph,” He blinks slowly, assessing you with a new sense of interest. “I haven’t really had to take anything seriously in a while.”

Pushing out your bottom lip, you feign another pouty voice, “Poor Homelander. Getting old and lazy up there on his high pedestal.”

He lurches forward again, but you grab onto him and use his momentum as well as your own strength to throw him into the nearest wall. It surprisingly doesn’t dent or crumble, so he falls face down to the floor, where he groans slightly before rolling onto his back.

With a short laugh, he slowly shifts to his feet, shoving his cape behind him as his eyes focus on you. “Alright, I think you’ve earned my fun side.”

“Oh,” Your brows raise briefly, slow clapping for emphasis, “Lucky me.”

He manages to grab you this time, pinning you to the floor by your throat as he kneels, his face inches from yours, jaw clenching as his hand squeezes tighter.

Since he hadn’t bothered to pin your hands, you grab his wrist and start twisting his hand away. It seems to catch him off-guard, his brows knitting as he watches you pry yourself out of his grip. The surprise wears off as he presses harder, his hand returning to your throat, the vein in his neck straining to the surface at the effort. Not wanting to risk him grabbing your hands too, you hastily grip his leg and tug, knocking him off-balance so that he falls beside you.

Using his continued underestimation of you to your advantage, you waste no time in gasping for air, instead immediately standing and gripping lower on his leg to throw him up into the air. Though the extra force was somewhat unintentional, watching him face-plant into the ceiling before falling back down onto the floor does make quite a sight.

He stands slowly, shoving his cape out of the way before turning to face you, his eyes glowing red.

“I thought lasers were a big no-no?” You point to the big sign of rules near the front door. “Rule number 1 even.”

“I’m The Homelander,” He smirks, “And I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

He steps closer, eyes still glowing, his hands moving behind his back as if this was supposed to be the point where you drop to your knees and beg for mercy. It honestly brings a short laugh to part your lips, his gait faltering slightly as he realizes you haven’t taken even a single step back away from him.

Brows knitting together slightly, he reaches forward, gripping your throat again to bring your face mere inches from his own. “Don’t fucking test me.”

“You think you’re the only one with that trick?” You feel a grin tug your lips wider, the familiar warmth growing in your eyes as your vision tints the slightest bit purple.

The red fades from his eyes, replaced with their default of deep blue as he leans in closer, his other hand moving up to move the stray hair from your face and caress your cheek. “Purple?”

It catches you off-guard, you feel the hand around your neck move to the other side of your face as he shifts closer, examining your eyes as they return to normal.

“Beautiful.” He mutters.

“Riiiight…” You tilt your head, feeling overwhelmingly confused.

He starts to lean in, the tip of his nose grazing yours slightly, and your instinctual reaction is to immediately gut-punch him as hard as you can, sending him to slam his back against the wall and then dropping to one knee. With a chuckle, he stands again, his head tilting toward you and a wide, open-mouthed grin spreading across his face.

Before you can move he darts forward, flying up with you and shoving your back against one of the walls, hastily gripping your wrists and holding them together to pin them above your head with one hand, the other finding your throat. Pressing his body flush against yours, his fingers shift slightly along your jaw to force you to look at him.

“That wasn’t very nice,” He whispers, his gaze darting from your eyes to linger on your lips, “Now was it?”

Shifting uncomfortably, you squirm to pull your hands from his grip, but you only feel the leather of his gloves dig in harder. He’s stronger than you, maybe not by much, but it’s enough to overpower you. You’d never been in this situation before, no one had ever been stronger – though you knew someone out there had to be, you’d always avoided other supes to begin with. It’s a strange feeling, somewhere between panic and excitement.

“Fuck you.” You mutter.

One of his brows quirk up, “Is that a threat or an offer?”


	5. Chapter 5

The intercom rings out, startling both of you, “Homelander and Aether, please report to Stillwell’s office.”

“Ah,” he smirks and grazes his nose against yours before reluctantly shifting away, both of you parting as you warily eye him, “seems as though we’ve been summoned. I suppose this will have to continue some other time.”

You grab your bag and follow along beside him, refusing to let him see any break in your resolve, though keeping at least an arm’s length distance between the two of you. Still unsure whether you’re more irritated or intrigued by him, you opt to distance yourself for the time being. He’s dangerous, and extremely unstable – a toxic combination waiting to explode, and you don’t want to be anywhere in the blast radius when that timebomb inevitably goes off.

Stillwell quirks a brow as you both enter, you still in your training gear, “Didn’t have time to change,” you mutter and flop down on the nearest couch, reveling in her discomfort as her smile twitches only for a brief moment.

Homelander eyes you curiously before facing her, broadening his smile, “and what can we do for you?”

“We’re announcing her tonight,” she beams, placing her hands on the table before her and leaning her weight forward slightly, “we’ve come up with a brilliant name that did wonderfully with the focus groups. They’re readying the set for the two of you now, I thought it would be best to have you announce her personally as our newest member of The Seven and your new partner.”

“Of course,” he raises his arms at his sides as if striking a brief pose, “what a great idea! Lending credibility to someone who is so clearly committed to being here by putting my name on her membership to The Seven,” he slowly clasps his hands behind his back, a smile still plastered on his face, “perfect plan Madelyn.”

“Well,” she stiffens, her smile tightening as her eyes harden, “maybe that’s why we have plans in place for **if** she actually decides to leave.”

“Oh?” he strolls casually closer to the desk, fiddling with one of the picture frames, “and do tell what this plan may be that has been so important even I don’t know about it yet.”

“The only way she can leave,” she motions to you, “and go about whatever kind of life she thinks is better than all of this, is to fake her death and give her a new identity. No one would ever know she and Aether are the same person.”

“Do you realize how stupid that sounds?” he chuckles incredulously.

Stillwell simply smirks and crosses her arms. “It’s worked before.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” you speak up, not meeting either of their glares and choosing instead to take in the strange decor of the office, taking joy in how they loathe your casual dismissal of their perceived statuses.

“Well,” she takes her seat again, motioning toward the door, “I’m **so** glad we could have your approval, now if could both go make ready for camera, you’re on in 30.”

She doesn’t even look up as you both make your leave, keeping her nose in her paperwork and only shifting to glance at her computer screen.

Unbeknownst to her, you see her sigh and lean back in her chair, the closed door giving her a false sense of security. You wonder to yourself if Homelander often used this to gain an upper hand on those around him; x-ray vision comes in handy, though, it can be a dangerous thing to know what lies behind each and every closed room. Like the old adage goes: with great power comes great responsibility. Admittedly, even as the thought crosses your mind, you’re absolutely certain that he abuses this power at every given opportunity.

One quick look his direction proves your point, his own eyes glued to Stillwell with an annoyed crease to his brows.

He meets your eyes, studying them briefly before turning on his heel, his cape flowing as he purposefully walks down the hall. “Coming?”

You hate feeling beckoned, but duty does call, and you’re obligated for a week’s time to go along with the proceedings as if any of this actually mattered to you.

“I’m not thrilled about being in a commercial together either,” you sigh, catching up to him quickly and matching his gait.

“Oh I’m sure there are much better uses of the two of us on camera,” he trails off, waiting for your reaction as a growing smirk broadens across his features with your continued silence, “come on! Lighten up a little, take a joke, have some fun with it. You’re only here for a week, so why not make it the biggest week we’ve seen here at Vought?” He pauses at the door, holding it and blocking your way, “We could really stir some shit up while you here,” he leans in, lowering his voice and glancing down to your lips, “if you’re up for it.”

You clear your through, drawing his attention back to your eyes, “I make my own fun; stir up my own shit. Thanks, but no thanks, poster boy.”

You brush past him, forcing him out of the way as you enter and are immediately swarmed by a crew of hair and makeup. Some cities hold a population smaller than the team of people assigned to getting the two of you ready. How or why any of this is normal, or necessary, absolutely baffles you.

They primp and preen you to within an inch of your sanity, finally leaving you be as your eyes begin to glow purple with irritation.

“You get used to it,” Homelander shrugs, standing casually leaned against the doorframe, “I think you handled them pretty well for your first time.”

“Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?” You eye him suspiciously before returning your attention to your reflection. As much as you hate to admit it, they had done a great job making you look like a mysterious new superhero; you felt powerful.

“Maybe I just-“

“Aether,” one of the production assistants walks in, peeking her head just for a moment to make eye contact with you, “you’re up, let’s go.”

You brush past Homelander again, but he catches your arm, holding you in place and opening his mouth, his eyes softening somewhat before he glances past you. His demeanor hardens again, his mouth shutting and jaw clenching slightly as he releases you and turns to walk the other direction.

Curiously, you turn and almost bump into Stan Edgar, Vought CEO and one of the few humans who actually has any say in what Homelander does.

“Mr. Edgar,” you greet, staying respectful regardless of your opinion of the company.

“Pleased to meet you, Aether,” he extends his hand and shakes yours, firm yet brief, “I’m happy to say that I’ve found time in my schedule to welcome you to our family and to oversee today’s filming.”

You nod curtly, following him as he motions down the hallway toward the commotion of what you assume to be the film crew putting everything together.

It should be simple enough, right? Just read off a few lines and pretend to be excited about joining the team and about working with Homelander. You could act starstruck and grateful for a few minutes, and this couldn’t possibly take longer than that. Right?

You round the corner to an insane flurry of movement, script papers being passed back and forth and countless people scurrying about like ants among what you can only describe as a set built for way more than just a few minutes of filming.

“Um,” you face Edgar with a new furrow to your brows, “how long is this supposed to take, exactly?”

He chuckles and pats your shoulder as he slowly makes his way across stage, leaving you with no answer and a pit growing in your stomach.

“Great.” You mutter to yourself, your heart rate steadily rising with anxiety as more and more people rush past.

Slow, deliberate, steady breaths in and out.

But, it’s not working.

Someone bumps into you, and you clench your eyes shut against the barrage of noise as a large group approaches, all talking at once, all talking to you.

You feel your chest tighten and palms clam up, your throat closing and every breath growing more labored than the last as you hastily retreat back to the room you had been prepped in. Before anyone can follow, you quickly lock it and press your back against the cooling surface, sliding down to sit and hold your knees close until the air comes more steady again.

** Homelander POV: **

“Where’d she go?” I demand, still unsure how so many incompetent people could possibly all be hired to work for the same company much less be in the same room. You’d think with all Vought’s assets and connections we’d at least be able to tighten the recruiting process and get some quality staff, but apparently not.

“Uh, well…” One of the blumbering idiots on the production crew motions vaguely down the hall to the dressing rooms, “she kinda just lost it and ran down there, locked herself in her room.”

I glance to the others, waiting expectantly.

They all nod, one of them shrugging slightly, “She zoned out and was beathing kinda hard, maybe she got sick?”

I feel my brows crease unintentionally as I brush past the useless crowds of crew and make my way to her room, listening for a moment before looking in on her.

She’s curled up against the door, her knees draw in to her chest with her arms wrapped tightly around, her breathing very deliberate… I scan further and see her heart pounding and hormones higher than usual, though, slowly leveling out.

I know this feeling all to well, and admittedly wish someone had been there to comfort me when I was in the same shoes.

Glancing around briefly, I ensure no one sees as I lightly knock against the door, “Can we talk?”

I see her lift her head, “What the fuck do you want?”

“I have some pointers,” I pause, watching her form somewhat untangle as she glances over her shoulder, “on how to calm down… if you want to hear them.”

She stands, the door clicks unlocked, and she shifts away before I slowly turn the handle.


End file.
